Free Orphea Proud by Sharon Dennis Wyeth Page B

half-empty shelves. “Where are the groceries?”
    “They’ll come in the spring. In winter we don’t get too many customers. And what with the canning Minnie does in summer, there’s plenty for the two of us to eat.”
    “Hope my visit is … okay … with you,” I half-stammered.
    She patted my hand. “More than okay. You’re family.”
    Then we just sat there. Have you ever just sat with somebody without saying a word? Lissa is the only one I could ever be quiet with, and that was never for more than five minutes. That kind of quiet can be unnerving. I was glad when Aunt Minnie clomped into theroom. She was more the noisy type with her clomping and spitting. She grunted an awful lot, too. In fact, a grunt accompanied almost everything she did. She walked into the room and stood by the table. She put down my plate with a grunt.
    “So, Lazarus has finally made an entrance.”
    “Lazarus?” I was confused.
    “Fella who got raised from the dead,” she explained. “A story from the Bible.” She grunted again.
    “Oh.”
    My stomach growled. I tried not to wolf down my eggs.
    The Aunts sat across from me staring.
    Aunt Cleo smiled.
    “Looks just like her, for the world,” Aunt Minnie growled.
    “ ’Deed and trust, she does,” Aunt Cleo cooed.
    I cleared my throat. “Who?”
    “Nadine, of course,” Aunt Minnie said. She put a log on the fire.
    “You’ve got her face,” Aunt Cleo told me. “You’ve got her smile.”
    I put down my fork. “I don’t look anything like her. Nadine wore lipstick.”
    Aunt Minnie chuckled. “Yes, she did like to make herself fancy.”
    “I’m not like that,” I protested. “I mean … my mother was beautiful.”
    Aunt Cleo nodded. “Yes, she was.”
    I gulped down my coffee. Why had they broughtup Nadine right away? I was already too sad about Lissa.
    “Your mama’s old room is next to the back door,” said Aunt Minnie. She stood up and pulled out her tobacco. “You sleep there if you want to. We just put you upstairs so you wouldn’t be bothered by all our noise.”
    “Thanks. I’m okay where I am.”
    Aunt Minnie crossed to the soda fountain and spit in her old coffee can. The quiet in the room turned tense.
    “Those quilts you gave me are good and warm,” I said, trying to make conversation.
    Aunt Cleo nodded. “Made them myself. But this here’s my favorite,” she said, fingering the quilt across her lap. “It’s a story quilt.”
    “It reminds me of a map.”
    “Every square has a story of somebody in the family.”
    “My mother, too?”
    She nodded. “That’s your mama’s hand right there,” she said, pointing out a square. “Traced her hand in school when she first came to live with us.”
    I touched the spot with my finger. It felt odd to see the shape of my mother’s hand when she was a child. My own hand was so much bigger. I turned away.
    “Do you remember the time you visited?” Aunt Cleo asked.
    “Once … I remember it was snowing.”
    “We made snow ice cream with maple syrup,” she told me. “Your mama and daddy took you and Rupert in a horse-drawn sled.”
    “Rupert and Daddy were here?”
    “Why, sure. That bad boy Rupert tried to kill my kitty cat.”
    My head felt heavy. “I don’t remember.”
    “You don’t have to,” Aunt Minnie said briskly. “Those times are long gone. Ain’t that right, Cleo? It’s Orphea that we’re interested in.”
    I fidgeted in my chair.
    Aunt Minnie peered into my face. “Rupert told us you had a problem.”
    “I flunked out of math.”
    “Is that all?” said Aunt Cleo. “That’s not so bad. Boy across the road has a reading problem.”
    Aunt Minnie grunted. “Ain’t a reason to drop out of school.”
    “I needed a break,” I said quickly. “There were some other things, but …”
    “Don’t feel you have to tell,” said Aunt Minnie. “You don’t need a reason to stay with Cleo and me. You’re Nadine’s girl.”
    A lump in my throat made me scoot up